


I Lost A Piece Of Me In You

by Captainpeony



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Death, Derek is dead, Grief, Holy shit I don't know why I did this to myself, M/M, Remembrance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captainpeony/pseuds/Captainpeony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a new life now, but he still carries pieces of the old, no matter how much he wants to forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Lost A Piece Of Me In You

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me really suddenly, and I needed to get it out. Sorry if you hate me for it.

“Stiles?” Greg asked quietly, holding up an old picture of Scott and Isaac and everybody together, happy, before everything went to shit.

Erica was smiling wide, hanging off of Boyd’s shoulder, Allison and Lydia were in the middle, laughing at something Scott was doing, his hands in the air and jaw cracked in a crooked smile. Stiles stood slightly off to the side, smiling at the rest of the group. Behind him you can see Derek, smiling down at Stiles. Stiles’ breath caught in his chest and he’s momentarily transported back to that day, the feel of Derek’s hand on his back, the sun beating down and the sounds of happy laughter surrounding them.

“Where – How did you find that?” He finally managed to choke out. He hadn’t thought about that day in years. He’d moved away for a reason. The months following that picture had been it. He hadn’t been able to handle more. He’d lost enough. The few of them who had made it through had stayed, called him a coward for leaving them. Greg took a step forward and pushed the picture into Stiles’ hands, waiting until his fingers folded hesitantly around the frame before letting go.

“They look like they were important to you.”

Stiles let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. They were my life.” His hands trembled as he ran a finger over every figure, tracing the faces he’d struggled so hard to forget.

“Will you tell me about them?”

For a moment, everything in Stiles rebelled, wanted to shout _“NO!”_ and throw the damned picture to the floor, watch it shatter into a million pieces just like his life had. He thought back to the person he’d been when he’d emerged from the ashes, when he’d met Greg, and how they’d healed each other. They’d built a life together, loving each other in a way he hadn’t really known how to do. They rarely argued, they’d bought a dog last year, they went to Greg’s sisters in Chicago every year and dragged Stiles’ dad along with. Everything was perfect. There was no _“but”_ coming either. Stiles loved Greg, passionately and without regret.

They knew everything about each other, everything except for this. Ever since they’d first met, Greg had known there was something that Stiles would never talk about. Something that wasn’t to be brought up, wasn’t to be asked about, and he hadn’t pushed. Stiles loved him for it. In the first few years, he didn’t think he’d even be able to bear thinking about it, and then once he’d finally gotten past the trauma, he’d worked to forget.

But now, it was here, staring him in the face.

His eyes caught on Derek, the small smile gracing his handsome face as he looked down at Stiles. They’d had a few brief months together before the Hunters, and had been together just over a month and a half before the picture had been taken. They’d fought constantly, arguing incessantly over stupid plans and stupid pack members and stupid lovers spats about not picking clothes up off the floor. The sex had been just as constant and happened in every square inch of horizontal space of Derek’s loft, much to the annoyance of the pack. But they’d been happy. No matter how much they would argue and scream at each other, they’d always end up sleeping curled around the other at night. Derek would sometimes slink back into the bedroom right after he’d heard Stiles’ heartbeat slow and crawl carefully under the covers. Sometimes it would be Stiles who threw the bedroom door open and leapt onto the hard mound of Derek under the covers, spewing apologies and further arguments before Derek would crush their mouths together and drag him into the bed.

The only fight that continued beyond sex and apologies was that Derek was determined to keep Stiles safe, and that Stiles refused to stay that way. In the end, that was what broke them. Flashes of fire and Derek's back falling away from sight burst their way back into the forefront of his memory, and Stiles crumpled to the floor.

“Stiles!” Greg reached for him but missed, and chose to kneel next to him instead. He laid a steadying hand on Stiles’ heaving back, calmly waiting with him through the panic.

The picture still clutched in his hand creaked in protest against the grip Stiles held on it, but he didn’t let up. Quiet tears ran down his face, his body wracking with sobs as he let everything he’d pushed away back in. “I really loved him, Greg. I loved him so much. And they took him from me. They took him from me the same way they took everything from him.” He paused for a gasping breath, and fell sideways into Greg’s arms, arms he was so used to, but now felt so foreign in comparison to the man he held in his memories.

Greg wrapped around him as if he could shelter Stiles form the onslaught.

“What was his name?”

“Derek. His name was Derek. They killed him right in front of me, shot him in the head as he was trying to save me. He promised that we’d get out alive, and instead he distracted them, lured the hunters away from where Scott was getting me out a window. But I saw, I saw them shoot him. I saw him fall. Greg, I loved him so much.” Tears were raining down, blurring the picture and the way Greg’s hands held his, holding him together.

Greg pressed wet kisses into Stiles' hair, and his heart broke for the boy the man he loved had once been.


End file.
